


Burning Gold

by SadieHerondale



Series: Transitions [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: (it's mostly background homophobia caused by lack of exposure though so don't worry), Canon Compliant, Character Study, Healthy Relationships, Homophobia, Late Night Conversations, M/M, OC, Original Character(s), Protective Victor, Trans Character, Trans Yuri Plisetsky, Yuri Plisetsky Centric, not that that affects the plot much tbh, protective of yuri that is, some chapters will be mostly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-06 15:47:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8759206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadieHerondale/pseuds/SadieHerondale
Summary: A series of oneshots examining the little things that we don't always get to see on screen. ~~~Can be read as a standalone, but you should probably read Stay Restless, Running Wild first.





	1. Shooting Stars Cannot Fix the World

**Author's Note:**

> People seemed to want me to continue this, but for the sake of keeping to canon I have to wait until Wednesdays to update new chapters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As abrasive and downright _mean_ as Yuri is, Yuuri has grown increasingly fond of him.
> 
> \--or, Yuuri and Victor talk about Yurio when they get back to Japan.

“Was Yakov good to you while I was gone?” Victor asks in the car. He doesn’t sound at all concerned, just curious.

“Mm.” Yuuri nods, but can’t help his yawn; it’s been an exhausting few days between Maccachin, the free skate, and Yurio. All he wants to do is curl up with Victor and sleep for a few days. The familiar landscape of Hasetsu blurs past the windows. It’s nice.

Victor lets him have the silence until they pull up to the onsen. “Come on, Yuuri. We need to get your bags inside.”

He reluctantly unbuckles his seatbelt. The car is so warm, and as pretty as it is, the snow is cold. There must be a strange look on his face, because Victor laughs before getting out of the car. He walks around the outside of the car and throws the door open unceremoniously, a mischievous grin on his face as Yuuri yelps at the rush of cold.

“Victor!”

Victor blinks at him innocently. “What? I thought it was chivalrous to open the door for the person you love.”

It takes a lot for Yuuri to hold back his blush. He slides out of the car and bats his boyfriend on the shoulder lightly. “You knew exactly what you were doing.”

“Ah, but it worked.” Victor opens the back door and hands Yuuri his bag. “Let’s go inside.”

Yuuri leaves the unpacking for tomorrow, simply dropping his stuff in his room and rummaging through his drawers to find a pair of sweats or pj’s. At the moment, he’s not particular. The cold definitely woke him up, but he still wants to spend some time with Victor. His worry about Maccachin and Yurio distracted Yuuri from missing him, but the feeling was always there, he realizes as he takes off his shirt. It wasn’t just during his free skate; that was just when he was the most aware of it.

A pair of icy hands cross his torso. As if Victor can read his mind, he wraps Yuuri in his arms from behind. “I missed you so much, милый. Even a day...”

Yuuri sinks back into his hold, barely startled at Victor’s sudden appearance. “I know. It was too much for me too, given the circumstances. But if we hadn’t…”

“Maccachin is fine,” Victor assures him, resting his chin on Yuuri’s shoulder.

Yuuri shakes his head. “That’s not it.”

Victor hums curiously before pulling away and tugging Yuuri toward his room. “Let’s go to bed, Yuuri.”

“But I’m not tired-- and I’m not wearing a _shirt_ ,” Yuuri remembers, face burning in mortification. What if his sister turned that corner? Or his _mother?_

“It’s fine,” he insists, opening the door and pulling Yuuri in. “Besides, I don’t mind the view.”

Yuuri flushes a deep red; he wants to think that Victor doesn’t see because of the darkness, but there’s no way he’s oblivious. He know the effect he has on Yuuri.

Victor closes the door and drags Yuuri to bed, playfully wrestling him over who gets to be the big spoon. Of course he wins, wrapping his arms around Yuuri’s torso and slotting their legs together.. Still, once they get comfortable, his expression grows more serious.

“There’s something else bothering you.” It’s not a question, and Yuuri avoids looking at him. “What is it?”

“It’s… not my place to say,” Yuuri mumbles, thinking about the heart-wrenchingly vulnerable look on Yurio’s face when Yuuri found him in the bathroom.

He’d skated Agape beautifully, but it hadn’t seemed like it was really _him_ skating. He didn’t know what brought it on, but when he’d held the boy in his arms, it seemed like he was barely keeping himself sane. He was in so much _pain,_ and it still scares Yuuri to think that he would have had to deal with it alone.

“Mm.” Victor sounds like he understands. He shifts and the telltale glow of a phone screen lights up the room. Almost instantly, the phone buzzes. He holds the phone screen for Yuuri to see.

 

**VN: did something happen with Yuuri? he won’t say**

 

**YP: ofc not wtf**

 

**YP: also tell that bastard he took my siamese kitten socks with him i want them back**

 

“What do you want me to say?” Yuuri knows that there’s no way that Yuri would admit to anything happening in Russia. He’s probably repressing it, trying not to remember that he had a moment of weakness in front of the man he swears to hate.

Victor puts the screen to sleep and puts it down, settling back into his previous position. He plays with a strand of Yuuri’s hair and sighs. “I’m going to tell you something that I think you already know. Yurio has the habit of saying anything other than what he means. It’s a… what’s the word…”

Yuuri’s English is better than Victor’s, but it’s still not great. He goes out on a limb. “Defense mechanism?”

“Yeah. That’s exactly it,” Victor murmurs. “I’m sure you can tell why he does it.”

“He seems so open about being out, I just assumed that he was just like that. But then… After the first day at Roseltam, something happened. He’s so afraid, Victor.” It’s hard not to tell him the whole story, to avoid explaining exactly how heartbreaking it is to think about such a fiery boy being shut down by his own body and soul. But as abrasive and downright _mean_ as Yuri is, Yuuri has grown increasingly fond of him; he would never betray the boy’s trust like that.

Victor stops messing with Yuuri’s hair, dropping a light kiss on his shoulder with a sigh. “It’s not that he’s been open about it. It’s that you and I both found out by accident, and he forced himself to play it off like nothing. Yakov and I have done our best to help him, but he never lets his guard down. He’s terrified of people seeing Yulia.”

Yuuri rolls over and looks at Victor in confusion. That doesn’t make sense to him, because Yuuri never saw Yulia except when… “But what about his girlfriend?”

“Huh?” Victor raises a surprised eyebrow. “He doesn’t have one.”

“But… he always acts like a girl when he’s on the phone with this girl--” Yuuri stops when Victor starts laughing. He’s trying to keep quiet, but his shoulders are shaking hard enough to rock the bed.

“I’m-- I’m sorry,” he chokes out in a whisper. “It’s not f--funny. I--It’s actually a very sad situation. But you th--thought _Anna_ \--”

Yuuri flushes again, not entirely sure what he’s done wrong. It’s not as though anyone knows much about Yuri Plizetsky; his entire past is kept under wraps, to keep controversy down. It’s not out of the question to think that he could have a girlfriend. It doesn’t make total sense that he would pretend to be someone that he’s not for her sake, if they love each other, but nothing about Yurio has made sense to Yuuri until recently anyway.

Victor holds Yuuri’s face in his hands gently and sobers. “I’m sorry. I had to either laugh at the hilarity or cry at the sadness. I don’t want you to see me cry, Yuuri.”

“I don’t want you to think that you can’t cry,” Yuuri says, for once maintaining eye contact. “God knows I do it enough.”

“I don’t mind. I love that you can be so open about your emotions.” Victor smiles softly for a moment before it drops into some expression that has Yuuri mildly concerned. “Since you’ll meet her at the Grand Prix, I should tell you before that, I suppose. Anna is Yurio’s little sister.”

Yuuri’s eyes widen. He didn’t know Yuri had family besides his grandpa. “And he hasn’t--”

“If he does, he’ll be banned from seeing her.” Victor’s expression has darkened in a way that Yuuri hopes he never has to see again. “He hasn’t told her, so that hasn’t happened. In fact, as I understand, she was supposed to be there during the short program the other day. He would do anything for that little girl. ”

 _So that’s what that was._ Yuuri can understand why Yuri is doing this to himself, but he can’t even imagine the pain the boy is going through. “But it’s hurting him so much…”

“ _Anything_ ,” Victor repeats bitterly, angry at something Yuuri can’t see. He mutters something to himself in Russian, almost as if he doesn’t know he’s saying it. Yuuri catches the words _parents_ and _understand,_ and puts the pieces together. Still, he doesn’t say anything, waiting instead for Victor to switch back to English. He does, eventually. “All I can do is support him, even when he does things I don’t agree with.”

Yuuri wraps his arms more tightly around Victor. “We can only do the best we can. If he’ll let us, we should guide him.”

There’s no response from Victor, not that Yuuri really expects one. It’s okay. Sometimes silence speaks so much louder than either of them could ever hope to.

  
  
 


	2. Barely Breathing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You weren't trying to be beautiful this time, were you?"
> 
> "There wasn't a reason to."

Yuri is actually pretty pissed off when he realizes that Yuuri took his favorite socks. It was an accident, of course, but those socks are _amazing._ They’re fuzzy and really warm and they have these little cartoon kittens on them that are just the _cutest--_

 _Ahem_.

He wants his socks back. It’s not even that it’s that big of a deal that Yuuri took them, since they’ll see each other in Spain in just a few days. The socks aren’t the problem; it’s what it means that Yuuri has them in the first place. It’s a reminder of the fact that he was weak enough to let Yuuri in, that he was weak in front of someone that he swore was his worst enemy. He doesn’t want to remember it, does his best not to. Then, as soon as he lands in Spain with Yakov and Lilia and sees Victor hanging off of his skater, as usual, it all comes rushing back: the churning in his gut, the icy air on his bare back, the way it felt to have someone go, _I care about you. Deal with it._

He barely acknowledges their obnoxious greetings, pulling his hood up and heading to the exit that’s further away, but at least in a different direction. He can almost _feel_ Yakov’s eyeroll, even though he can’t see it. Yuri immediately regrets his choice when a piercing _“Yuratchka!”_ cuts through the din of the airport.

 _Shit._ He scans the area in a panic, looking for a place to hide out for the rest of his life, since that’s about how long it’s going to take for the danger to pass.

Unfortunately, he takes too long. He’s attacked by the mob of girls, who pin him in place by the arms. Yuri’s Angels. He spends the next thirty minutes being blinded by camera flashes and suffocated by “hugs” that are way too rated R for his fifteen year old ass. Even the kitty plushies they always shower him with aren’t enough to make him get over his irritation. Still, he pockets a couple of the smaller ones and allows a particularly cute cat bed full of tiny, super soft kitten plushes and a blanket to be shoved into his arms. It’s one of the cutest ones that he’s ever seen.

Yakov finally rescues him with a mischievous glint in his eye that tells Yuri that he’s been standing there for a while. Yuri scowls and compulsively counts to make sure that he has all six kittens. They’re really soft, and it’s actually making him feel a bit better. For a while, he’s able to stave off the memory of what happened in Russia.

There’s one, he realizes as he’s unpacking later, that reminds him of his cat back home, Bella. Mila is looking after her, but he still misses her quite a bit. The cat, not Mila. Mila likes to make a joke of how light he is and bench press him; it’s irritating. He names the plushy cat Stuffed Bella, after the one he can’t bring with him to competitions.

There’s a knock at his door when he’s arranging everything. He looks down at his too-loose shirt and dubs it suitable for human company; he answers the door, stowing his binder in an empty drawer along the way.

“What the fuck do you want?” he asks Victor.

The older man just smiles and holds out a small bundle. “I think these belong to you.”

Yuri takes the socks and lets Victor in reluctantly. When he closes the door, he catches a glimpse of that Kazakhstan skater whose name starts with an O. They nod at each other, then the door comes between them.

“So where’s your boyfriend?” Yuri sits on the bed by his new kittens.

“Asleep. Yuuri isn’t a very good traveller.” Victor’s face softens into a fond smile before he looks directly at Yuri. “But I wanted to talk to you about your free skate.”

“I think you mean the short program,” Yuri says, picking up Stuffed Bella and petting its ears absently. _After all, that’s all anyone wanted to talk to me about._

Victor just smiles patiently. “No. I know what happened during the short program. The free skate, on the other hand...”

If Victor were anyone else, Yuri might have snapped something about how very wrong that statement was. He would have kicked the person out, literally shoving them through the door and probably causing them bodily harm for assuming that knowing his secret meant that they knew _him._ But the fact is that it _is_ Victor, and he _does_ know Yuri, and even though he has the most irritating habit of pretending to be (or sometimes actually being) totally oblivious, there’s no doubt in Yuri’s mind that he actually _does_ know what happened during the short program.

“My free skate was perfect. End of story.” _Why are you bringing it up?_

“Technically, yes,” Victor says, nodding. “But you weren’t trying to be beautiful this time, were you?” _What happened?_

“There wasn’t a reason to.”

There are no double meanings in this, no reading between the lines. Grandpa was the only one watching his free skate program, and Grandpa doesn’t want him to be beautiful. He wants Yuri to be Yuri, and Yuri is angry and obsessed with perfection. There was no reason to try and be beautiful after his disastrous Agape.

The look Victor gives him isn’t pity, but it’s close. Close enough that its meaning hits a little too close to home. “There’s _always_ a reason to, Yura. It’s a matter of whether you want to do it for yourself or for… someone else.”

When Yuri doesn’t respond, Victor sighs and heads for the door. When he opens it, he looks back. “Just remember, Yuratchka. You’re skating the Grand Prix Final, and you have two of the best programs in the world. Don’t fumble your chance with a half-hearted performance.”

“Don’t patronize me. And don’t come into my room just to nag me about shit, asshole. You’re not my goddamned father,” Yuri mutters.

Victor smiles again, sincerely. “No, I suppose I’m not. Not by blood, at least.”

Then he closes the door, leaving Yuri alone with his thoughts for the rest of the night. Needless to say, he doesn’t get much in the way of sleep.

**~oOo~**

The next day’s practice session is particularly grueling. Not only is he sleep-deprived, but he’s also insisted on wearing his sport binder. It’s the Final; he can’t afford to avoid pushing his limits. Besides, this time Anna is going to be here for sure. He has to consolidate his performance within just a few days so that he’ll have something that he’s actually proud to show her.

It’s several hours before he takes a break, and several more before their allotted practice time is over. The only reason that Yuri’s breathing is as controlled as it is is that he’s trying his damndest to keep it that way.

Yakov hands him a water bottle. “Before you even ask, no. You’re not going to the ballet studio today.”

Yuri chokes and splutters. “Wh--What do you expect me to do, then?”

“Go out. Sightsee.” The look that Yakov gives him is entirely deadpan. “Be a normal fifteen year old boy for once.”

 _“Huh?”_ What the hell is that supposed to mean? Yuri’s hardly a _normal_ fifteen year old boy. If he goes out in public right now, a few days before the biggest competition of his life, there are bound to be Angels stalking his every move.

“You heard me.”

Yuri sneers and shoulders his bag. Whatever. Yakov can stop him from training, but he can’t make him deal with the outside world--

“And Yura,” Yakov calls, right before he reaches the door. Yuri turns, massively irritated, but Yakov just scowls right back at him. “You won’t be able to go back to your room until I say so. I’ve hidden the key with someone.”

 _So that’s why he was going through my stuff earlier._ Yuri scowls venomously, but leaves the room with nothing more than a sigh. There’s no use arguing the point; Yakov has no doubt given the key to someone who isn’t going to fall for any of Yuri’s regular plays. Besides, if he manages to ditch the crazy fangirls, he might actually be able to enjoy it. Spain is actually kind of nice, from what he remembers of it.

Those thoughts are immediately banished from his mind when he’s ambushed, less than a minute after leaving the rink. Even the plushes aren’t enough to keep him still this time; Yuri _runs,_ toting his fifteen pound workout bag along with him. In retrospect, it’s pretty similar to the workout he’s missing because of Yakov’s stubbornness, so he supposes he can’t complain (though he could do without the irritation that always comes with an influx of screaming girls, or crazy girls, or any other girls, really; girls bug him).

Finally, he finds an alley to duck into, hood drawn down nearly to his eyebrows. He has a good enough lead on the mob that he should be in the clear… or so he thinks, until one of them starts _sniffing the ground._

Yuri has barely caught his breath, but he’s getting ready to run again. Then the sound of a motor cuts through the screaming. Somebody pulls up on a motorbike and tosses him a helmet.

“Yuri!”

Yuri freezes, looking at the bike like it’s a monster. Where the fuck did it come from? This is a fucking _alleyway,_ it’s not like there are that many entrances.

“Well?” O-Something-From-Kazakhstan asks. “Are you coming or what?”

The Angels spot him, and Yuri doesn’t even think twice. He snaps on the helmet and stows his bag in the sidesaddle in record time before straddling the bike. O-Something-Or-Other guns it down the alleyway, but not before the Angels snap several pictures.

“Otabek!” One of the girls sounds like she’s swooning as the turn the corner. Yuri supposes that that’s the other boy’s name.

He decides that he likes this Otabek guy, about ten minutes into their drive. Neither of them has aid anything, but it doesn’t look like they’ll need to. From what he’s seen, Otabek is a pretty quiet boy on his own, and it looks like that extends to when he’s around company as well. Good. Contrary to popular belief, Yuri generally doesn’t like talking much either.

Thirty minutes later, Yuri is drawn out of his thoughts by the sound of the engine being cut off. He blinks, pulling away from the older boy’s back. _When did I hold onto him?_ He wonders, scouring his memory of the last forty minutes. _And why am I cold?_

They’re on a hill, and it looks like it’s later than Yuri thought; the sun is going down. There’s no one around, and Yuri can’t for the life of him remember how they got there, so he supposes that this is some secluded place that Otabek stumbled upon by accident. He take off his helmet and leans his forearms against the railing. He wishes he had someplace like this back home. It’s a really good place to think.

Then Otabek tells him that they know each other, and Yuri can’t help but feel a little guilty. He was a jerk when he was younger, so it doesn’t surprise him that he wouldn’t have noticed a novice skater. Of course, Otabek is clearly at least as good as he is now. Maybe not noticing him was a mistake.

“Yuri Plisetsky had the unforgettable eyes of a soldier,” he says simply, and the words hit home in ways that Yuri doubts that he even knows about.

Yes, he’s a soldier. He’s fighting a thousand battles every day, and still isn’t quite sure what he’s fighting for. All he knows is that it’s important. The headlines call him the Fairy of Russia, as if he’s _beautiful,_ as if he’s _Yulia,_ or some variation of her. But here’s someone who, without even being asked, knows that beautiful isn’t what Yuri is. He’s battle-worn, jaded, scarred. When he met Otabek, he’d just changed rinks, but it was so much more than that. He’d changed families, changed houses, changed identities, and hadn’t told a soul who didn’t already know. He was a wreck. But still, he kept fighting, _keeps_ fighting; even all those years ago, Otabek apparently saw what nobody ever had before.

When he offers his hand in friendship, Yuri doesn’t even hesitate to take it. _Well,_ he thinks, letting his face form a small grin, _Maybe that bastard Yakov was right to postpone practice. Being normal might be kind of fun._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I know if I ship them or not? No, not yet. I'm just so glad that Yuri has a friend. It makes me so, _so_ happy to see him happy.
> 
> Other than that.... Thoughts?


	3. Until I've Had Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He's _not_ my boyfriend."
> 
> “He's absolutely your boyfriend! He asked you on a date!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place pre-episode 11, on the night before the short programs. Also, is anyone else _dying_ to see more of Yuri acting as Victor's successor? I'm so excited for (but also _dreading_ ) episode 12.

The day before the short programs, Yuri is actually pretty calm. He’s consolidated the program enough to give him a fighting chance, and that’s all he’s ever really needed to win. The only thing that’s stressing him out is what’s going to happen tonight. There’s an excited knock at the door of Yuri’s hotel room. He sits up, running a finger under the strap of his damned bra in irritation. How on earth did girls wear these fucking things every day? If it were up to him, he wouldn’t even own one, let alone wear it. Of course, these are extenuating circumstances.

Grandpa had given him some warning that Anna wanted to see him before the short programs start, so he set up a meeting early tonight. If he got a gauge on Anna’s expectations, it might help him on the ice tomorrow. Anna is his true agape, and her being here is going to help him more than any of Victor’s bullshit “beauty.”

Yuri Plizetsky had the unforgettable eyes of a soldier.

The words appear in his mind, unbidden. He shakes them off reluctantly. As much as they meant to him, there’s a little girl at his door waiting to be let in.

“Yulia!” Anna tackles him as soon as he opens the door.

Yuri glances around quickly to see if anyone heard. All of the doors are closed, except the one that’s slightly cracked. Whatever. It’s probably no one he gives a shit about, and it’s definitely no one that speaks Russian. I can play it off as a nickname if anyone asks, he thinks as he closes the door.

Anna releases her arms from around his waist and stares up at him in wonder. “This hotel is so fancy! They gave me a cookie at the front desk and I saw a man with a cart who was carrying everyone’s bags. There was one lady in the hall with a dog. I didn't even know dogs were allowed in hotels. Is there room service? Can we get some?”

Yuri can’t help but laugh at her excitement and hands her the room service menu. The bra still feels strange and foreign, but he tries to ignore it. “Sure. Whatever you want, Annichka.”

“Yay!” After a moment, she scowls at the menu. Yuri can’t help but think that the look reminds him of himself. “Yulya, this is in Spanish.”

“Well, we are in Spain…” Sass isn’t something uses particularly often, but he can never help poking fun at his little sister. It’s just instinct.

She looks up at him with the Sad Kitten Eyes-- the ones that she knows are always going to be his undoing. “Can you help me?”

“Put those eyes away,” Yuri grumbles, plucking the menu out of her hands. “I already told you that you can have whatever you want.”

He scans the menu absently, already pretty much aware of what’s there and what it tastes like. “How about an empanada? It’s kind of like pirozhki, but Spanish. Not as good as Grandpa’s, of course, but I think you’ll like them.”

“Okay!” Something tells Yuri that she would have agreed to whatever he recommended. Anna will eat just about anything. “I want chicken.”

He orders them and lets Anna talk his ear off about school and the mean girl in Year 5 that pulled on her pigtails and got in trouble last week and the boy she likes that doesn’t like her and the math teacher that’s “so boring, Yulia. I always want to sleep in his class. I want to be homeschooled like you!” When the food comes, she’s showing him the pictures that she took of all the stray cats that she comes across on her way home from school every day and they’re cooing together.

“These are good!” Anna’s talking with her mouth full, a luxury that Yuri knows that she only has with him. She polishes her empanada off in under a minute. “Beat that.”

“Is that a challenge, little girl?” Anna smirks and nods. “Then challenge accepted.”

Yuri picks one up off his own plate and downs it in three massive bites. “You still have a long way to go before you can beat me, Annichka.”

They goof around for a while, and Yuri lets her win a couple times because he's the best older sibling ever. When his phone buzzes with a text from Otabek, he thinks nothing of it.

 

**OA: Yuri, I'm heading out for dinner. Would you like to join me?**

 

**YP: not tonight, eating with family. sorry beka. can we reschedule? maybe breakfast??**

 

**OA: No problem. Breakfast will work for me. It's a date.**

 

Yuri blinks, not totally sure what Otabek means by “date.” It's probably just an expression, so he doesn't worry about it. He doesn't want to ruin the only friendship he's ever had by reading too deep into the situation, and besides, they don’t know each other well enough for that to be an option... Right?

“Date?” Anna asks, swallowing a piece of her last empanada as she looks over Yuri’s shoulder. “Is that your boyfriend?”

Yuri remembers that Otabek texted him in Russian, not English, and panics. “No! What? He's just a friend. Who is a boy. Yeah.”

Anna grins, looking gleeful that she finally has something that will embarrass Yuri. “You have a boyfriend . Yulya, why didn't you tell me?”

“You're ten. This isn't the kind of thing I would talk to you about,” Yuri insists. Then he realizes that he never denied it, and Anna does too. He panics more. “But he’s not my boyfriend.”

“He's absolutely your boyfriend! He asked you on a date!” Anna is having too much fun with this, probably as revenge for all the times Yuri has poked fun at her.

He’s not even sure why he’s so agitated by the idea of his sister thinking that he’s going out with Otabek. It’s probably the secrets. He’s so, so tired of keeping secrets and lying to her. The truth is that he’s not dating Otabek (and his feelings about that particular matter are something he’s planning on examining later, because they’re confusing enough on their own), and that letting Anna believe that he is could backfire in any number of ways. Not the least of which, of course, is his parents finding out and being up his ass about liking boys and “doesn’t that mean that you’re a girl? Come on home, Yulia. Please.” An even worse possibility is Otabek finding out and deciding that maybe being friends with Yuri isn’t such a great idea after all, and all because Anna doesn’t know--

“I’m actually a boy,” he blurts out, thoughtless. He freezes when he realizes what he just said, and is suddenly even more aware of how wrong it feels to wear this bra. For a moment, Yuri feels like he can fly. The massive weight of his secret is falling off his shoulders--

Only to be replaced by another, heavier one. He did it. Depending on how she takes it, this could very well be the last time that he sees his sister.

Except that she’s laughing. “You’re funny.”

Maybe it’s the masochist in him, but now that the truth is partially out, he can’t stand to have her not understand. “Annichka...”

“I know.” She looks up at Yuri with laughter still in her eyes, but she doesn’t seem to be making fun of him. “I have for a while.”

Yuri is floored. “But… Mother and Father…”

“There’s a thing called social media. Maybe you’ve heard of it? Not that you’d know that I follow you, with the amount of other people that do. You’ve made it pretty obvious to anyone who knows what to look for. Mama and Papa don’t know that I know.” Anna sounds too old for her age. He wonders how long she’s been preparing for this moment, but decides that maybe he doesn’t want to know.

“They can’t know that you know.” Yuri’s heart pounds from fear of what could be, rather than what is. “I’d never be allowed to see you again.”

Anna steals an empanada off of his plate. “That’s stupid. You’re still my family, even if you're my brother and not my sister. Why do they care so much?”

He shrugs stiffly. She's actually looking for an answer, but even if Yuri could speak past the tightness of his throat he's pretty sure that he wouldn't be able to give her one. He's never been able to figure it out himself, so he stopped caring.

“Well, if you don't want them to know, I'm going to have to keep calling you Yulia,” Anna says with her mouth full. “I’m not Grandpa. I’ll mess up if I try to keep the two names straight in my head.”

Strangely enough, that doesn’t bother him. Anna can call him by any name; now that she knows the truth, and he knows that she does, the weight is gone again. His heart still seems to be pounding, though, and he’s not totally sure why. “That’s fine. Call me whatever you want, Annichka.” Thank you. Thank you so much.

“Okay.” Anna plucks another empanada off of his plate. He wonders, somewhere far in the back of his mind, where she’s putting all this food; it has to be her fifth or sixth pastry at this point, and she’s so little. “Now that that’s over with, you get dressed in something actually comfortable so we can keep talking about your boyfriend.”

“He’s still not my boyfriend,” Yuri insists, rubbing his shoulder self-consciously. “Beka is just a friend.”

Anna yawns. “Yeah, okay, whatever. Go get into pajamas and then you’re going to tell me everything. Then I’ll decide if he’s your boyfriend or not.”

Yuri can see her eyelids drooping and looks at the clock. It’s just after ten; she should be going back soon anyway, but he humors her for the moment. He picks up his pajamas and his binder on the way to the bathroom. His hands are shaking. Strange.

Is it because I’m in shock? He wonders. Or is it just that I’m relieved? Is it the secret?

He realizes that it doesn’t really matter. If it takes Yuri a bit longer than usual to get dressed and tie his hair back, so be it. He puts the binder on because he’s pretty sure that he’s going to have to take her downstairs so that Grandpa can pick her up. A quick peek into the main room confirms his suspicions: she’s nodding off, curled up on the bed. He takes a moment to marvel at just how small she is for her age; then again, he was too.

“I’m awake!” she says, snapping to attention for a moment and looking around blearily.

Yuri laughs and sends Grandpa a text, letting him know that Anna is ready to be picked up. Grandpa responds surprisingly quickly, saying that he’s nearby. “I’m sure. But I need to go to bed soon anyway.”

“But your boyfriend…” Anna trails off tiredly. She’s fading fast, and it looks like even she knows it.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Yuri scoops her up in his arms without much effort. Part of it is the muscle he’s built up over the years, but she doesn’t weigh much anyway. It’s strange, being able to do this, but it’s also nice. He hasn’t been allowed to pick her up for years. “Come on, little girl. It’s time to go.”

She groans, protesting her treatment halfheartedly. “I’m not a little girl.”

“Come on,” he says with a grin, “I never get to see you. Let me baby you a while longer.”

She doesn’t really protest further, doesn’t seem to really have the energy to. Yuri opens the door with his knee and gets them out of the room without too much effort. The hall is deserted for the moment, but they haven’t even gotten halfway to the elevator before it dings. Yuri pulls Anna closer. He’s not actually sure what he’s protecting her from, just that some instinct kicked in almost immediately. Then the doors open and his question is answered.

JJ seems to be talking Otabek’s ear off. Beka, for his part, looks murderous. Yuri knows the feeling; for people who like quiet, like Yuri and Otabek, JJ’s incessant yammering can be like nails on a chalkboard.

“Hey,” Yuri snaps quietly, in English, “You mind shutting the fuck up? She’s asleep.”

Of course, JJ does the exact opposite. He zeroes in on Anna, examining her closely. “Oh, I love kids! Who’s this cutie, Yuri? Did you kidnap her?”

Yuri is about to reply when JJ reaches out, presumably to pet Anna’s hair. She bites him hard, fully unconscious but looking up blearily when he yells in surprise. “Huh?”

“Good job, милый. I’m proud of you.” Yuri can’t even pretend that he’s not grinning like an idiot. Even Beka, who’s understood this entire conversation, seems to be having trouble suppressing a smile.

Anna hums, apparently enjoying the praise even though she's half sleep and probably not sure what she's being praised for. “Who’re they?”

“The competition.” Yuri switches back to English for JJ’s benefit. “I need to get her home. Unless you’re planning on tagging along, move.”

JJ moves immediately, trying to act like he wasn’t just put in his place by a child. Otabek, on the other hand, moves back into the elevator silently. Yuri follows, flipping JJ off discretely so that he would see, but Anna wouldn’t. The doors close before he can pretend to shrug off the insult, which somehow makes Yuri feel pretty damn good.

She seems more awake now. She tightens her arms around Yuri’s neck and looks at Otabek curiously. “You said he was the competition?”

“I am.” Otabek surprises her by speaking in slightly accented Russian and smiling a little. “But I’m also Yuri’s friend. My name is Otabek.”

The doors open, letting them out into the lobby. The instant Yuri spots Grandpa, Anna’s eyes widen.

“You’re the boyfriend!”

Yuri’s face burns; there’s no way Grandpa didn’t hear that, and nearly no hope that Otabek misunderstood the meaning.

Grandpa raises an eyebrow and Yuri scowls at him in embarrassment. Beka, on the other hand, just looks amused and leans down to whisper something in Anna’s ear, his head almost too close to Yuri’s face for comfort. For some reason, his overprotective instinct doesn’t kick into gear. He doesn’t really question it.

When Beka stands back up, Anna’s eyes are as wide with wonder and she nods. “Okay. I understand.”

She wiggles around, trying to get Yuri to let her down. When he does, she holds out her hand to Beka. “Promise?”

Otabek shakes her hand solemnly. “Promise.”

Something warm fills Yuri’s chest when he looks at the two of them, and he can’t pretend that the feeling doesn’t grow when he hears “Nyura! What a surprise!” from across the lobby when Victor and Yuuri return from their night out. The way it stops him from speaking, as if he’s choking on several emotions, rather than anger or sadness alone, is unfamiliar but not entirely unpleasant. It’s only when they all gather in a group, Anna and Beka and Grandpa and Victor and Yuuri, that Yuri realizes what’s happened.

He’s found his true agape.

  
  



	4. When You're Not Listening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maybe he can’t be at Yuri’s level. Maybe no one can.
> 
> But in this moment, icy air burning his nostrils even as the sweat pours down his face, he’s the closest in the world to being there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short (more or less 1300 word) character study on Otabek, before the GPF ruins my life.
> 
> This chapter take place right before the "Let's end this" scene that ripped our hearts out. Victor isn't back in their room yet, but he's headed there after this. Just to give you a marker for when this might have happened.

He'd been so close.

He'd been so close to being Yuri’s equal.

Now he's gone and beaten the world record, and Otabek is right back where he started. And yet… there's a sparkle in Yuri’s eyes, a glimmer of vindication that wasn't there before, and Otabek can't bring himself to show how upset he is about it.

After all these years, he knows that Yuri has been working just as hard as him. Possibly harder, if that display last night with his sister was anything to go off of.

The little girl, Anna, had taken him completely by surprise. Actually, it might be more accurate to say that Yuri’s behavior around Anna had taken him by surprise; when the elevator doors opened to reveal him holding a blond little girl in his arms with his hair pulled back and the fondest little grin on his face, Otabek’s heart nearly stopped. He had to blink and dug his nails into his palms discreetly the make sure that he wasn't seeing things.

The illusion shattered when the little girl nearly bit JJ’s finger off in her sleep, and Otabek could barely contain his laughter. She's definitely Yuri’s sister, he thought at the time, remembering the texts he’d gotten before.

Now, seeing that short program, he's pretty sure that that little girl is Yuri’s everything. There's a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that something happened last night, when Yuri turned down his invitation. Something momentous and earth shattering enough that Yuri was able to flawlessly perform one of the most difficult routines that Otabek has ever seen. It's frustrating, being out of the loop and unaware when he’s sure that everyone else knows what’s going on.

Still, he's aware that though he and Yuri are friends, that's still new. He's going to have to fight for it now, harder than he has in all the years that he's been chasing after Yuri. Harder than he's sure that he's capable of. They will become friends. He will make it to Yuri’s level, one day. In all the years that Otabek has been skating, he's been chasing the shadow of a boy with a war-torn gaze, searching for a way to be by his side. He’s sure the Grand Prix Final is his chance to at least begin to earn that right.

Otabek pours his determination and his desperation to prove himself, into his short program. The ice is a battlefield, but he's fighting a different battle than the others. The podium, the glory, the medals are just a bonus; his true goal is sitting in the stands, scowling.

Davai, Yuri yells to him, that same scowl on his face. The direct translation is Good luck, but he knows what Yuri is actually saying: Don’t you dare let me stop you.

Unless Otabek is even more inept with people than he thinks he is, Yuri wants him to rise to the challenge. That in itself is enough for him to fight his way up through the ranks.

And he does exactly that, landing himself in second place for the short program segment. Maybe he can’t be at Yuri’s level. Maybe no one can. Maybe that’s a part of his charm. But in this moment, icy air burning his nostrils even as the sweat pours down his face, he’s the closest in the world to being there. He’s never minded being number two; not if Yuri is number one.

He’s actually surprised when there’s a knock on his door less than an hour after the short program is over. It’s not quite dark out yet, but he thought Yuri would be busy celebrating with his family…

“Huh?” he says, eloquent as ever, when the man behind the door isn’t Yuri.

“May I come in?” Victor Nikiforov asks, a polite smile on his face.

Otabek steps aside. His room has a few clothes scattered around, and his free skate outfit is draped over a chair, but he’s not a messy person overall. He’s not really worried about how Victor views him, either.

“What do you want?” he asks, closing the door.

Maybe it’s a little tactless, but Victor doesn’t seem offended. There’s something in his eyes, though; something different from anything Otabek has ever seen from Victor before. “Nothing much. I just wanted to get to know you a bit. After all, you’re apparently friends with Yurio now.”

Otabek isn’t stupid; he knows what’s going on. Still… “I’m not sure it’s your place to be examining his choice in friends. He can make his own decisions.”

“Hm… I suppose you’re right.” Victor taps his chin thoughtfully. “If that was what I was doing, I would definitely be out of line. I just wanted to give you some warning about Yurio’s habits with people that he cares about.”

He just raises an eyebrow. Yuri has never really hidden the fact that he shows affection through bullying. Does Victor think he was born yesterday? But Otabek doesn’t say any of this, instead going with the usual response when he's done listening.

“Whatever.”

“Great! I’m glad you understand. Yuri has been through a lot, and I’d hate for him to be hurt by someone who didn’t know any better.” There’s that thing in Victor’s eyes again, that sliver of razor-sharp ice that Otabek isn’t accustomed to. Even though he’s still smiling, it’s a little terrifying.

“I think you may have the wrong idea about me,” Otabek says in monotone, masking his surprise. He knows that Yuri hasn’t had the easiest life, anyone with two eyes can see that, but he never knew just how important he was to someone like Victor, who’s infamous for being unreachable. “We’ve only known each other for a few days.”

“And yet.” Victor doesn’t seem to want to finish his statement, but the ice in his smile doesn’t go away. “Just be sure to watch yourself.”

He can’t help it; he raises an eyebrow. “That sounds like a threat, Victor.”

The ice melts instantly, replaced by a look of actual, genuine confusion. “Threat? What do you mean? I was just saying that there are a lot of people who care about Yurio. It’s hard to become one of them.”

Well, he's known it for a while, but Otabek is finally fully realizing that for all that Victor Nikiforov is a skating genius, and quite possibly a relatively smart man, he's a moron.

“I’ve cared about Yuri for a long time,” Otabek says, and just because he didn’t plan on saying it doesn’t mean that it’s any less true. Or that he’s planning on taking it back.

The ice isn’t the only battlefield that he’s going to have to fight on for Yuri’s sake, but he’s more than willing to do whatever it takes. He doesn’t think that Victor is going to be his enemy though. All he seems to want to do is protect Yuri, which is something that Otabek can sympathize with. At least they seem to have the same goal.

Victor seems to want to say something in response, but there’s a knock on the still-open door.

“Beka, why is your door--” Yuri freezes when he sees Victor. “What the fuck?”

The only reaction he gets from Victor is a cheery “Yurio! You did great today.”

There’s a gleam of pride in Yuri’s eye, but that doesn’t stop him from shoving Victor out the door and forcing him down the hall with a swift kick to the back. “Go comfort your fucking boyfriend or something, christ. And take a goddamned shower. You smell like sweat and desperation.”

He mutters something that sounds like goddamn overprotective dad, and looks at Otabek. “He’s obnoxious. Whatever he said to you, don’t worry about it.”

“I won’t.” Otabek crosses his arms and wonders silently what Yuri is doing here, and not with his family. Though, it seems like today would have been to exciting for a child Anna’s age to be awake much longer, despite the early hour. Maybe it’s not all that strange. “So what’s up?”

“I’m going to dinner, and I need a ride.”

Wanna come with me to eat? The meaning rings loud and clear to Otabek, just as it always has.

He grabs his helmet and the spare; he’s considering just making it Yuri’s, since no one else uses it. “Alright, let’s go.”

Sure.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We'll just call this my last reaction before the season finale (I refuse to believe that the series is over, shh. It's on hiatus until further notice, and no one can tell me different) completely ruins what's left of my life and soul. *finger guns with tears rolling down my face* Yeah... That's what this is.


	5. Not the End of Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _If I don’t get a total score higher than Yuuri’s, if Yuuri wins gold…_  
>     
>  _Next season will be boring._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episode twelve: *happens*
> 
> Me: *screams loudly for 23 minutes*

Yuri is doing his damndest to focus. He really is. The problem is that now Yuuri is catching up. He has to put on the performance of his life if he’s going to bag gold, so he zeroes in on the music playing from his earbuds.

_ Step sequence, combination, loop into a quad. I’ve got this. I’ve beaten Victor Nikiforov’s world record. I’ve done this piece flawlessly. Oh, there’s another quad at this part. Yuuri Katsuki will  _ **_not_ ** _ beat me here. Not after everything I’ve had to give up to get here. Combination, into the step sequence. I have to remember to pace myself, or I’m going to fuck up in the second half. That step sequence at the end is brutal. _

The feathers on his costume are itching his neck, and his binder presses down on his chest as tightly as ever, but he ignores it. At this point, he’s used to those feelings.  _ I’m going to win. I have to win. _

The announcers call out his name. It’s his turn. He turns to get out onto the center of the ice.

_ “Davai.” _ Otabek calls out. Yuri mirrors his thumbs up from yesterday.  _ I’m going to nail this. I have to. _

Anna’s not in the stands today, but that doesn’t matter. He knows that she’s watching, just like he knows that Grandpa and Mother and Father are watching. He’ll show everyone. Even those goddamned kids from school, when he still went to school. After today, everyone will see. Maybe he’ll be able to finally,  _ finally  _ get rid of  _ her. _

The music is blasting in his ear, drowning out the rest of the world. The noise of the crowd, the incessant clicking of the press cameras, the whispers and coos when he walks by. All of it is muted, overpowered by a whirlwind of music.

_ Allegro Appassionato.  _ A passionate allegro. Yuri has always poured his anger, his desperation, into this piece. The emotions that give him strength fuel him to do this inhuman, grueling program and perfect it every time.

His mind clears of everything but the program. When he messes up, he immediately raises the difficulty of the next jump.  _ Earn back those points.  _ Yuri isn’t angry. Not right now.

But he  _ is  _ desperate. It would be stupid to pretend that he isn’t; they all are. He’s going to be the youngest gold medalist in the world. He’s going to prove Mama and Papa and everyone wrong. All of them.

That damned pig thinks that he can just  _ retire,  _ after finally getting to Victor’s level. As if Yuri is going to let him.  _ I have to win gold. I have to. I can’t let Yuuri win. We’ve already beaten Victor. I have to beat Yuuri now. He can’t retire. Not when we’re finally on a level playing field. He’s not even that old, for fuck’s sake. _

_ If I don’t get a total score higher than Yuuri’s, if Yuuri wins gold… _

His skates skid to a stop and he poses for a moment, lungs and muscles burning pleasantly as he collapses.  _ Next season will be boring,  _ he realizes. But right now, he’s just skated one of the most difficult programs of the year, and he’s done a damn good job of it. He feels… good. Not just about his chances of winning, but about  _ everything.  _ Yuri isn’t entirely used to being happy, but he’s finding that he kind of likes it.

Especially when he gets his gold medal, and everything he’s been hoping for finally happens all at once. It’s almost too much.

Though, he’s not sure exactly how JJ managed to scrape his way onto the podium. Literally any of the others should have been up there. Yuri also isn’t accustomed to feeling sympathy, he realizes when they leave the rink, but he feels his heart twisting painfully when he looks at Otabek, though the other boy’s expression hasn’t changed much from it’s usual blankness. He makes a mental note to pay for dinner tonight before he gets rushed through an hour of cameras and questions and the changing rooms and more cameras and more questions. Miraculously, he doesn’t actually snap at anyone.

When he finally gets a moment to check his phone, he’s already in the elevator at the hotel. There are texts there from Yuuri, Victor, Grandpa, Father (he assumes that it’s Anna; despite being ten and begging their parents, she still doesn’t have a phone of her own), and, surprisingly, Mother. She hasn’t sent him a text in… years, at this point.

Yuri doesn’t open any of them. He’s unwilling to be pulled into a conversation (and maybe he’s avoiding Mother, but no one would be able to prove that). The adrenaline rush is fading fast, and if he doesn’t get food, he’s going to rage. The banquet food was kind of shit, so none of them ate much. He’s in too good of a mood to go back to being angry so soon, so he puts his phone in his pocket and knocks on Otabek’s door.

When it opens, Beka’s eye widen in surprise, as if he didn’t expect Yuri to be there. “Hi.”

“Come on.” Yuri holds his hand out for his helmet. “You drive, I’ll buy.”

Otabek blinks. Pauses for a second, as if he’s wondering if Yuri is serious. Then he nods. “Give me a second to get my coat.”

When they get downstairs, the lobby is still swarming with cameras. For a second, Yuri regrets leaving his hair up. It would be so much easier to avoid them if he could pretend not to see them. Then there are the Angels, who seem even more obsessive than usual now that Yuri has a medal. One in particular manages to fight her way to the front of the pack, brandishing a pen and a photo at him.

“Yuri! Please sign my picture!” she wails in Russian. She’s about his age, it looks like. There’s something slightly familiar about her face; she must be one of the really crazy ones that follows him and thinks he doesn’t notice.

She’s blocking the entrance, so he looks at Otabek and rolls his eyes before taking the pen and picture. He doesn’t do autographs often, but he knows how. He looks at the girl balefully; because of how he is in public, he can get away with being an asshole. In fact, the Angels seem to thrive on it.

“Whose name do I put on it?”

The girl twirls her brown hair nervously; again, Yuri is struck with that feeling that he knows her. “Um, make it out to Vera Kozlov, please.”

It hits him like a ton of bricks.  _ Vera Kozlov.  _ The girl that made his life so miserable that he chose homeschool over middle school.  _ Boys can’t be skaters,  _ she’d said. Not just once, but for  _ years.  _ Yuri wants to laugh and hit her over the head with  _ his  _ fucking gold medal. Instead, he just hands the paper back to her, unsigned, with a blindingly bright smile on his face. “I’m sorry, Vera. I’m afraid I made a promise to someone that I would never sign anything for you.”

She looks shocked and heartbroken. “Who?”

“Another Plizetsky that I happen to be very close to. We met because of a project for school when I was thirteen, and became good friends. Does the name Yulia ring any bells?” Yuri is still smiling, even though Otabek looks mildly confused.

Vera, on the other hand, looks like she was just slapped. “You’re friends with  _ that  _ butch bitch?”

“I am.” Yuri does laugh this time. Something releases in his chest at the chance to get back at Vera like this, like a knot of tension that’s been there for years. “And she’s very much into boys, by the way. Not butch at all. But the way you’re acting makes me hate you even more than she does. I can see why she told me to stay the fuck away from you.”

“Yurio!” Yuuri’s voice rings out from behind them. Yuri turns, still laughing. Yuuri looks surprised, but he just smiles with Victor on his arm, as usual. “Do you and your boyfriend want to come get dinner with us?”

_ He's not my... Fuck it,  _ he thinks, when Otabek doesn’t even make a token protest at the label. He seems pretty uncomfortable because of Vera, so Yuri will end it here. He can always clear it up with Beka later. “Sure!”

He turns back to Vera, who’s looking from Otabek to Yuri and back again, mouth gaping. “You… You’re…”

“Get the fuck out of the way,” Yuri says, with a smile on his face. “You’re blocking the door.”

He and Beka walk past her without another word and wait for the other two. They decide to meet up at a good Asian place Yuuri found the other day.

Yuri knows that there are going to be pictures of him smiling all over the internet by morning, but none of the Angels are close enough to have heard them; besides, he knows that most of them are also “Victuuri shippers,” whatever the hell that means. None of them will hold any of this against him even if Vera does say anything.

For right now, he’s hungry as hell and riding the high that comes with winning a battle he’s been fighting for years. He’s overcome his goals- several of them, in fact. But seeing Yuuri and Victor and Vera reminds him that there’s still a lot of work ahead.

_ Good,  _ Yuri thinks, strapping on his helmet and straddling the motorcycle. He wrap his arms around Beka’s waist like it’s second nature. The wind whips his hair all over and bites through his jacket.  _ At least it’ll be interesting.  _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since this goes up to the end of canon, I'm going to finish this work here. BUT there is going to be another one that is going to be the same concept, but more like drabbles that have no bearing on canon, because canon isn't going to happen again for at least another year. So... I guess if you want to know when I write more, subscribe or bookmark the _series,_ not the individual works? Yeah, I think that's how it works. (I write more than I read, so I'm not totally sure, but I think that's how it works.)

**Author's Note:**

> So... Thoughts? Like it? Hate it? 
> 
> Also, as long as you aren't commenting as a guest, I'll respond to every comment. Just because I like talking with you guys.


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